The Sword of Landover
by Oddwen Floddball
Summary: Updated. It's a crossover with all the TB universes. Ben thinks he's Nest Freemark, Walker Boh: Detective, and Findo wants YOUR autograph.New chapter!
1. One, somebody stop me!

update 12/22/06

Hey! I'm just reupdating this, making sure that it adheres more fully to FF's guidelines. I had offered to insert characters that reviewers requested, but no longer. Rest assured, Garet Jax will be making an appearance later.

This first chapter sucks. You don't have to read it if you don't want to.

* * *

Ben Holiday woke up suddenly. What had awoken him? Ah yes. It was Willow, singing that song that he had taught her.

"I have climbed highest mountain, I have run through the fields, only to be with you!" she screeched.

"Willow, please shut up," he said.

"You shut up. Where are you going today? For you know that I must follow you. I am yours, Ben."

Ben groaned and got up. "Today I'm going to have a meeting with the lords of the Greensward at the Heart. You know, that place where demons seem to be all the time?"

"Ah," she said. "I shall follow you."

"No, you cannot. It is too dangerous."

A loud pounding appeared at the door. "High lord, High lord!" the knocker bellowed.

"$!!" said Ben.

"Bark bark bark!"

"Drat that Abernathy! Go away!" Ben shouted. When the knocker didn't go away, Ben picked up a shoe and stealthily went to the door. He wrenched it open and whacked the person there as hard as he could. Questor Thews the court fool, I mean wizard looked surprizedly at him.

"High lord, I merely was bringing this stray dog to your attention! He must be protected from Filip and Sot, for they are coming to visit us through the tunnels that nobody is supposed to know about that endanger the foundations of Sterling Silver."  
"Uh, ok. Get Abernathy to take care of it. Aren't we supposed to be going to the Heart?"

Questor Thews put his chin in his hand and in all appearances looked like he was thinking. Abernathy saw him.

"Questor Thews! If you don't have anything better to do, I would appreciate it if you took back this mole on my nose!"

"I didn't put any moles on your nose," said Questor.

Abernathy felt his nose in horror. "If you didn't, then that means, CANCER! ARRGHH!" and he ran away screaming, er, barking, or whatever.

Ben leaped down the stairs five at a time to the table. Bunion grinned at him wolfishly and chattered.

"Uh, yeah." Said Ben pretending to understand. But confidentially, he really didn't, for if he had, he would have been highly insulted.

"What's the first order of business, Questor Thews?"

"We must go to the Heart to meet with the lords of the Greensward, for Kallendhbor seems to have another evil plan to overthrow you."

"Ah, right on schedule," Ben looked at his watch. Then he threw it in a corner because it was broken anyway.

"I shall come with you, I belong to you," said Willow.

"I thought you were for women's lib?" said Ben.

"Whatever. Shut up."

So they started, Ben on his ridiculously named horse Jurisdiction, the rest walking because Ben was in a bad mood today. A black skunk with a white streak across its back watched them with blood red eyes.

"Dispatch that skunk will ya Questor?"

Questor screwed his face up and waved his arms. He meant for a shower of perfume to drop upon the skunk, but instead several bottles fell on its head. They reached the Heart where the lords were waiting.

"What took you so long? You were supposed to be here yesterday!" bellowed Kallendhbor. "Prepare to die!" he drew his sword.  
"Oh goody!" said Ben. "I get to lose more of myself to the Paladin, father of Peregrine so's I can fight bad dudes!" So saying, he grasped the medallion and a white light shot out, projecting an image of a knight dude on a horseback. On horseback. On a horses's back. He dispatched Kallendhbor easily, and the rest fled screaming. Ben drew back into himself.

"Willow, I must tell you something. I am the Paladin, and the Paladin is me."

Willow looked pained, and looked from Ben to the medallion.

"You is the Paladin, the Paladin is you...but I am yours! Who am I supposed to follow around?" and the poor poor once-upon-a-time-fairy sobbed and ran off into the trees.

"Doggone, I mean drat, oh shoot! Now I can't swear. Something's wrong," muttered Ben. Just then, Nightshade appeared.  
"I hate you, Holiday!" she screeched rubbing her head. She brought her slender hands up with a green pointy thing and would have done Ben in except Strabo appeared and breathed fire all over the place.

"Well, Holiday, it seems I am giving you more unrefuted favors. Don't expect any more." He finished his cow with a gulp.

"Stupid fathead!" shouted Nightshade. She summoned magic but Questor Thews the court fool, er, wizard appeared waving his arms like a windmill and a thousand cakes appeared. Strabo breathed fire and all the candles were lit, and everyone started singing the happy birthday song.

Ben looked a bit confused, and the Willow and Bunion appeared with armloads of presents, and finally Ben understood.

"Wow! Cool! Thanks!" was all he could say.

"I still hate you, Holiday, but I'll spare your life until these cakes are gone," said Nightshade rubbing her hands together and eyeing the cakes.

"I hate you too, Holiday. I'm off to get a cow, since dragons don't like cake." And Strabo flew off temporarily.

"Heck, I hate you too," said Willow.

"As do I!" said Questor Thews.

"Come to think of it, I dislike you very much also!" said Abernathy.

Bunion and Parsnip chattered.

"At least you like me," said Ben. But the kobolds looked at each other and then each bit one of Ben's shins.

"Ouch!" he cried.


	2. Two, notice the boldness?

Originally, this was just a one-shot fic. I changed my mind and continued it.

* * *

Ben and his merry company were traveling back to Sterling Silver rather happily. Ben was playing with his pop gun that shot bubblegum that he received from Questor Thews. The kobolds didn't seem to like this stuff, as it stuck their teeth together. Ben giggled and shot some more. 

"At least he isn't playing with the thing Nightshade gave him," whispered Questor to the kobolds. "Goodness knows what a 'nookleer warhed' does."

"Ben Holiday!" came a shout.

"High lord! Goodness me! It is the evil Control Alt Delete!" cried Questor Thews.

"What, another bad guy that you've never told me about? How many are there?"

"Oh, a few," Questor dismissed his question with a wave of his hand.

"Holiday!" came the shout again. The company looked to see a woman with blonde hair dressed all in black standing with her hands on her hips.

"Answer me these questions three, and then maybe your home you'll see!" she said. "WHAT, is your quest?"

"I have no quest at the moment."

"WHAT, is your favorite color?"

"I don't see how this..."

"WHAT, is the wing velocity of a sparrow flying due south with windchill factor of -40..."

"What do you want?" bellowed Ben.

She grinned. "You've answered all my questions wrongly. You are now scentenced to be a barmaid at the Ohmsford's Inn! Bwahahaha!"

She pulled out a keyboard and typed a bit, and with a rush of green Ben disappeared. Willow let out an angry shout and stalked the place where Ben had been.

Control Alt Delete laughed and disappeared.

...

Ben Holiday flew through time and space, until when he opened his eyes he found himself in a smoky room poorly lit by the fire and dusty lamps. He grasped for his medallion and found it gone.

"More cider!" came a shout. A rather fat man huffed at Ben. "Get going!"

"I don't know what you are talking about! Get going where?"

"Goodness me! What the heck..." The man surveyed Ben and scratched his head. "Now I've seen everything." And with that, he kicked Ben out. He lay in the street for a moment, trying to get his bearings. A man came up to him and looked down.

"Hey, stranger! You look like you could use a..." then his voice trailed off. "Psychiatrist," he finished hurrying into the bar. Ben wondered what the big deal was, when he looked at himself and found that he was wearing a dress.

Another man came by.

"Hey, stranger! Whence come you...uh, I have to go." He would have rushed off, but Ben grabbed him.

"What's going on?!" he shouted.

"I'll tell you what's the matter! You're obviously having a nervous breakdown, that's it!" quavered the man.

"Where's Control Alt Delete?" The man paled at the mention of the name.

"She came this morning and dispatched the tall stranger, and left behind a short stranger. Scary, she was." The man shook free of Ben's grip and ran into the bar. Ben followed, and immediately crashed into the fat man with a tray of mugs.

"Hey!" he shouted. Ben scurried under a nearby table.

"Well, you certainly have put your foot in it now, or should I say your finger?" came a voice.

"What?" said Ben. A hand tugged on his arm and Ben clambered up to the seat. He looked down at the cloaked stranger.

"I've always wanted to say that," the stranger said brightly.

"Who're you?" enquired Ben.

"I am Peregrin, son of Paladin. But most just call me Pippin, or even Pip. Or Pipster, Pipperoo, or Pippie, or..."

But Ben only heard the part about the Paladin.

"You're the son of the Paladin?"

"Well, yes."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Eating second breakfast, I would think. Anyway, there's P, Pipsqueak..."

But Ben's head was whirling. Perhaps he didn't have to become the Paladin all the darn time after all.

All of a sudden, there was a commotion at the door. A man with a book and a wild looking girl with red hair burst in.

"I'm looking for Nest Freemark!" shouted the man.

"Here he is!" squeaked Pippin pointing at Ben.

"He?" said the man.


	3. Three, spicy!

To my six reviewers:

Luinramwen: I'm so glad you like it! And yes, I am updating.

TeenTypist : Why don't you? I'd love to read it!

Shadow of Stargate : I appreciate your honesty.  
"A. every second word is "shutup"" I beg to differ. Every fourteenth, I believe it is.

"B. willow is normally peaceful and prophetic but shes obnoxious and rude" I don't care for Willow. You'll probably see more Willow-bashing in the future.

"C. there was no plot whatsoever and you simply made fun of certain details from the sotry. " True. But then again, that's what I live for. ;) It began as an exercise, and it ended up with a semidecent end, which is rare for me. So I posted.

"This could be made into a better story but there is a lot room for improvement." I hope it is better, thank you.  
  
DracoStarbo: Updating...now!  
"Laugh and Smile!" Oh, I am.  
  
Feye Morgan True, there aren't very many TB stories up. Somebody should change all that.  
I'll have to see if I can slip some more Nightshade in for ya.

Enjoy, folks!

And thank you to all who have reviewed since I last updated, I have a new chapter for y'all.

* * *

The man with the book glared at Ben.

"We have a score to settle!" he roared.

"Yeah girlfriend!" said the girl. "You tell 'em Findo!"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me girlfriend?" roared the man again.

"I have to be going now," said Pippin in an aside to Ben. Ben grabbed for him, but in vain. The man and the girl rushed at him. All of a sudden, there was a commotion.

"Free Born!" came a cry, and a man in a bright red suit swooped Ben up and carried him out the door. "I'll save you, fair damsel!" he shouted.

"What? I'm not a-" said Ben, but the man accidentally whacked his head on the doorframe while going out. When he awoke, he was in some sort of cave.

"Oh Damson, come see who I found!" came a voice.

"Who is it?" said an irritated voice. "I'm putting my makeup on!"

"What happened? Where am I?" mumbled Ben.

"There there, you've got a nasty bump on your head, that's all. Uncle Padishar's gonna make it all better!" said the man. A young woman came in.

"Daaaad, I'm getting ready to go see Par! What is it this time?" she said.

"This woman seems to be wanted by the Shadowen! She's Nest Freemark, or some such outlandish name."

"Nesh Frrmrk?" mumbled Ben. The name did sound familiar.

"She sure is ugly," said Damson flipping her hair. "Not like me."

"Of course not," soothed Padishar. "No one's as pretty as you!"

"I know," she said. "Who're you?" she said.

"Nesh Frrmrk?" said Ben. He couldn't remember...

"See there? What'd I tell ya!" said Padishar slapping his knee. Damson rolled her eyes.

"What-EV-er," she said.

"Well Nest Freemark, what brings you to the Southland?" continued Padishar.

Ben blinked. What had brought her there? Something dangerous, she was sure.

"Did the Shadowen chase you here?" said Padishar. Ben nodded. Shadowen, she couldn't remember what they were, but that must be it!

"Shadowen," he mumbled. Padishar nodded knowingly. A young man burst in.

"Damson!" he cried. "What's keeping you? I was beginning to doubt!"

"Silly Elf-boy," said Damson shaking her head and patting his. "I told you I'd be there, and I will."

"Who's that?" said Par. "Tell me Damson, I'm beginning to doubt, hurry tell me!"

"She's my daddy's girlfriend or something," she snorted. Ben seemed to remember something, about a girl with red hair and a girlfriend.

"She sure is ugly," said Par. "Not like you, Damson."

"She's not my girlfriend! I merely rescued her from the Shadowen," said Padishar. "Now shut up and go get your ice cream or something. You do have a chaperone, right?"

"Daaaad!" said Damson.

"Yes Mr. Creel, my distant something or other Walker Boh is coming. He's a druid, y'know! He said he had some tricks to boost my self esteem!" said Par.

"Yipee and woohoo," said Padishar rolling his eyes. "Go have fun, then."

Ben passed out.


	4. Four, what am I thinking?

New chapter alert as of 12/06, really. Enjoy.

* * *

"So, when did your dad meet up with that woman?" said Par sipping his banana smoothie.

"I don't know, he came in last night with her draped over his arm. I think he banged her head," sighed Damson. "How many does that make?" She looked around. "Where's Walker? If he doesn't show up, my dad's gonna be really mad at you."

Immediately, Walker Boh burst into the room followed by a whole troupe of cheerleaders.

"Hello, Par! Lovely Damson!" he said.

"W-Walker? What's with the cheerleaders?" gasped Par.

"They're great for the self esteem!" said Walker.

"Walker Boh! Walker Boh! If he don't know it, no one knows! Yaaaay!" chorused the cheerleaders.

"Remember when I lost my arm, how I was? Just doggone depressed?" said Walker putting his good arm around his something or others' shoulder. "Now that's all changed! I'm happy and confident!"

"Gimmie a W, gimmie an A, gimmie an L, gimmie a K, gimmie an E, gimmie an R, put 'em all together and whaddya get? WALKER! Yaaayyyyy!" chorused the cheerleaders.

"Morgan Leah!" gasped Par. The Highlander tried to hide behind his pom-poms but failed. "What're you doing?"

Morgan looked sheepishly at the rest of the troupe. "It's a living," he deadpanned.

"I pay well," said Walker with a grin. "I've got my druidic services, and if worse comes to worse I can always auction off a few bricks from Paranor!"

"Why am I having deja vú?" muttered Par.

"Possibly because the esteemed Authoress has already written about my cheerleaders in her delightfully zany story "An Interlude"," said Walker smiling dashingly.

"Um, ok...soooo that would meannnnnn...what exactly?" Par leaned forward in his seat, touched fingertip to fingertip and cocked an eyebrow.

Walker's smile froze. "Nothing, obviously," he said through his clenched teeth.

Damson rolled her eyes. "I'm bored, Par, why don't you go play something on the jukebox?"

"What's a jukebox?" said Par pursing his lips in confusion. Damson looked beseechingly at Walker who was trying to sculpt her ice cream cone into an image of himself. She snorted contemptuously and walked over to the jukebox herself, with Par watching after her as if she was going to suddenly get sucked through the wall. But, since such technology was not available at that time, there were no selections available, so she walked back to the table where Walker was teaching Par how to fold the napkins into swans.

"No no no! It's over under, over across, over, under, under, across over! Don't you get anything right? Oh hello, miss! Have you met my something-or-other Par? He's single!"

"Walker, this is Damson Rhee. You remember her." Par smiled nervously at Damson, knowing her temper.

"Ohhhh, right. Say, I think Morgan's around here somewhere, I think he was asking about you."

"WHAT?" bellowed Par, leaping up and stalking over to the bar.

"Ah, my darling, at last we are alone," sighed Walker. "Will you marry me? Do you have money? Answer the second question first." But she never answered either, for at that moment, a suspiciously hairy cheerleader sailed over the table, followed by Par doing a double backflip.

"Pardon me, lovely Damson, I feel that my druidic services may be needed!" and with a dashing smile, Walker rushed off to the corner where Par was singing Morgan into knots.

"Now now now! Is that any way to act, Par? I'm ashamed of you! Whatever possessed you to do that?"

"He's trying to steal Damson right out from under my nose!" whined Par.

"Where did you get that idea? He hasn't got the guts nor the brains!"

Morgan peered balefully from under his knee.

"Well, from you, since you said..."

"I never said any such thing!" said Walker, stroking his chin with his hand. "It's a mystery, that's what it is! And there's no better agency to solve a mystery than the Walker Boh Detective Agency!" With a flick of his wrist, the druid was suddenly outfitted in a plaid deerstalker cap and brandishing a magnifying glass.

"Shades!" gasped Morgan. "He's snapped!"

"And I want you to meet my assistants! Findo and Penny!" he gave a sign, and suddenly a man with a book and a girl with fiery red hair appeared at his side.

"They originally hired me to find some woman named Nest Freemark, but this is the more pressing matter!"

"What? Some boys beating each other up takes president over finding our DEAR er...er...sister!?" said the man waving the book around as if it were deadly in itself, cheaw right like that could happen...

"You tell 'em, girlfriend!" said the girl. Findo shot her a look that would have curdled elfstones.

"You're right, my dear friends!" cried Walker casting his magnifying glass away, striking the new barmaid on the head. "Par, ol' something-or-other, have you seen an ugly woman with nest freemark hair answering to the name of Cinnamon Cut-short Around her Face?"

"My Daddy brought home an ugly woman last night," said Damson. "She was much uglier than me."

"Of course, Damson, nobody's as pretty as you," chorused the entire bar. (She came there quite often, you see.)

"A CLUE!" bellowed Walker. "I must go to the Hadeshorn to consult with Allanon! Anyone want to come with me?"

There was silence. Waves of fear enveloped the room. Then, the door burst open, and a dark cloaked figure came in out of the rain.

"Walker Boh!" the old man cackled. "I thought I'd find you here! I heard you started a detective agency, and I want you to find out who's been sneaking onto my property and writing graffiti!"

"Aha!" cried Walker. "Business is booming! I will go with you, Cogline."

"But what about my aunt?" cried Findo.

"Sister," whispered Penny.

"Yes, that's what I said. Sister-aunt. What about your trip?"

"That can wait," said Walker, smiling hugely. "I've gotta go with Cogline, here."

Findo thought fast. "Cogline? Not THE Cogline! Not the Cogline who...who...is famous!"

The old man cackled. "That's me, pal!"

Findo smiled evilly. "Can I get your autograph for my book?"

"Why sure, sonny! Here, gimmie that pen, why in my day I...gurck, glack grrrgllkkkkllll..."

"He's dead!" cried a patron.

"I'm not dead yet!" said Cogline.

"You're fatally wounded," muttered Findo.

"I'm getting better!"

"No you're not, you're plainly dying!"

"I think I'll go for a walk," said the old man sitting up.

"Cogline, can you stand?" said Par.

"No, he obviously is ill!" snapped Findo.

"I feel happy, I feel happy..." sang Cogline. Findo smacked him on the head with his book and he fell over.

"Alas!" wailed Walker.

"Aww, too bad," smirked Findo tucking his book under his arm. It didn't matter if the old man hadn't finished his signature, it was already filling out. "Now about my mother..."

"Sister," whispered Penny.

"That's what I said. Sister-aunt-mother. That's Nest for ya, always being confusing!"

"Right," sniffled Walker. "Ah, I didn't like him anymore anyway. Now, Par, hadn't you best start packing?"

"What?" said Par.

"For the trip?"

"What trip?"

"To the Hadeshorn, silly," said Walker slapping his something-or-other on the back. "You, Coll, Morgan, Damson, Findo, Penny and myself are all going, remember? Now hurry up, we're all getting up early to beat the traffic!"

"Yay!" chorused the cheerleaders.

"Do we have to bring them along?" whined Damson. "None of them are as pretty as me."

"What are you talking about?" queried Walker. "Why, any one of them could..." Par quickly sang as loud as he could to drown out the druid, and absentmindedly sang up a rather large ferocious looking bull, who didn't look happy to be there, judging by the way it started tossing patrons about like leaves in a windstorm.

"Shades!" wheezed Morgan, who was clinging to a lantern fixture where he had been tossed. "Isn't there a such thing as a normal day around here?"

"It's Tuesday!" shouted Walker.

From his vantage point, Morgan could see the entire room: Coll in a corner, trying to tell a tale to calm the masses, Par trying to come up with a song to sing the bull away, the bull hindering this by chasing Par around and around, Walker obliviously standing in the middle of the room dusting his hat off, Damson chasing the cheerleaders around and looking almost as ferocious as the bull, and Findo and Penny sneaking out the door. Damson's path and the bull's suddenly converged, and Par was given enough time to sing it away.


End file.
